The Poem

My greatest fear is the fear of having fears;
Of being born with talents scorned;
Dismissal before expressal;
My crucial need for approval remains futile;
The sensation of depreciation is simply just depression;
Unjustified mistrust is now robust;
No console for being lone in my so-called home;
Self-respect is an object meant to disconnect;
Love flew away like a dove above;
The scope of hope sealed in an envelope, and travelled across the globe, but never to me, solo;
Freedom is but a low-blow and a no-go;
Joy seems like a conspiracy deployed;
Faith untamed, and stays at bay;
Dignity, tranquility is not an affinity, nor is it a quality of vitality;
Though, tenacity is in close vicinity;
Acceptance has not been sentenced to appearance, and it is all but indulgence;
Hence, the sense of accomplishment is a commenced and intense pretense;
Even still, the poem remains strange, well-arranged and unchanged.